


Spy Nick

by Bloodshaddow161 (bloodshadow161)



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:20:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7062208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodshadow161/pseuds/Bloodshaddow161
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is a spy and things go awry... An introduction to an AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Standing After Failure

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by 
> 
> http://kisu-no-hi.tumblr.com/post/144815390059/inspired-by-an-old-concept-picture-where-nick-is

**_Judy_ **

 

“‘This is what rabbits are made for Judy’” Judy mocks as she runs a paw through the water, “yeah right. You just never had the guts to do something else…” She sighs heavily. Carrot farming was never her idea, and the concept that she was stuck in the occupation only lead to infuriate her more.  _ I don’t want to do this… I want something more, I want to be able to change the wor- _ Her thoughts were cut short by shredded piece of cloth floating down the river. She shakes her head and recovers it from the river.

“Oh this is great. Just what I needed today! Factories throwing trash in our rivers! Just gre-” Judy perked as she lifts her gaze.  _ A fox? _ He wasn’t moving, even his chest didn’t swell as it should; his clothes were torn like he’d been mauled, she couldn’t distinguish his blood from his fur, and more than likely that was due to his blood coating his fur. She stood slowly, her body trembling.  _ Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead… _ Her eyes focused on his face as she crept steadily towards him hoping, imploring, for a something, anything, movement to let her know that he was alive. She reached him, right at her feet was a dead or dying mammal and she didn’t know how to react.  _ Call for help! _ She demands herself. Judy pulls her phone from her pocket and dials 911. She kneels down and lays her paw onto his exposed shoulder,  _ he’s ice cold. _ A sharp heave caused Judy to stumble back, but she is caught by a frigid paw wrapped around her wrist.

“No...cops… No… Hospital.” He weakly blurts through his pained expression. She shakes her head.

“No. No! You need help!” She claims as the call is connected.

“911. What’s your emergency?” A female voice requests.

“No, I can’t go there.” He speaks a lot more sternly as he lifts himself to his feet, trembling the entire way. “I’ll put people in danger if I go there.” His left paw grips heavily onto his limp right arm. 

“911 What is your emergency?” The operator demands. Judy stands in front of the hunched fox,  _ He needs help, he’s delusional. But if he’s telling the truth… _ Judy lowers the phone and releases a hefty sigh before lifting it back to her ear.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I accidently dialed…” Judy trails off.

“That’s alright, but don’t make it a habit.” The operator responds.

“Of course not, thank you.” 

“Alright, have a good day.”

“You to, again sorry.” She lowers her phone and ends the call, but quickly opens and searches through her contacts.

“Thank you.” The fox begins to turn away before she grabs onto his arm. She begins to make another call. “What’re you doing?” He requests slightly defensive.

“You still need medical treatment.” Judy glares at him, tightening her grip.

“No, I already told you! I’m a danger!” He ailly attempts to pull away.

“No, you’re in danger right now! And I cannot allow you to limp away without the strength to even break this weak grip.” 

“Hello?” A male voice answers the phone.

“Hey Bucky, it’s Judy. Listen I need to ask a favor.” 

“Who’s that? Why are you calling him?” The fox meekly demands, shivering.

“Bucky? Really? Is that name ever going to fade?” Bucky inquires.

“Tell you what, you do this for me, I’ll consider calling you by your real name  _ Doctor _ .” Judy glances at the fox as she talks, hoping he would stop struggling.

“Eyo~kay? What do you want?”

“So, I have a friend that kinda needs help.” 

“What kinda help?”

“He’s pretty banged up, yeah, he picked a fight with the wrong people.” 

“Call the cops and paramedics.” 

“Yeah, I would, but let’s just say that he’s not a fan of hospitals.”

“Judy, what happened?”

“Doesn’t matter, are you going to help or not?” The call falls silent as, she assumes, he ponders. Judy glances back at the fox, he seems eager yet distant. 

“Fine, where are you at?” Bucky sighs.

“The old tree house.” 

“Seriously? I’d figure it’d already rotted away by now.” 

“I’ve been taking care of it.”

“Give me ten minutes.” 

“Thank you Bucky, I owe ya.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll add it to the tab.” He hangs up the phone and Judy slides it into her pocket.

“Can you walk?” She inquires tilting her head towards the thick turf behind her, a large bush of leaves tower above the tall grass.

“Oh, I can do more than that.” He responds as he limps towards it. Judy rushes up to him pulling his good arm around her shoulders.

“Alright tough guy, let’s go.” He slowly begins to shift his weight to her.

“You know, it’d be easier to lean on you if you were taller.”

“With how your hunched, I am taller.”

“Judy, huh?” He states, Judy’s ears perk up.

“How’d you know?” 

“Theses aren’t just for show Carrots.” His ears flicker. “You know having your sound that loud is bad for your hearing.” 

“It’s on the lowest setting slick. Alright, what’s your name?” 

“The less you know about me, the better for the both of us.”

“Oh, and I’m sure you name is an Earth shattering secret.” 

“It could be.” He glances down at the bunny shaking her head. “My name’s Nick.” 

“Slick Nick, huh? Suits you.”

“Glad I have your approval.” Nick shivers as a strong breeze flows through the towering vegetation.

“Let’s pick up the pace, there are towels and dry cloths in there.” Judy states pulling him slightly.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s lots of clothes in my size in a clubhouse for rabbits.”

“Who said it’s just for rabbits?”

“Is it not?”

“Well, yeah, but we’ll burn that bridge when we cross it.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Nick_ **

 

They clear the tall grass and are immediately met by a colossal banyan tree. Nick was momentarily caught in awe, a single trunk spanned into a cluster of branches that reached out into the heavens yet connected also with the ground below. The leaves shrouded the afternoon light, thoroughly, Nick couldn’t discern the peak of the tree from underneath, submerged in a weak, artificial twilight.

“Hey, we should head up.” Judy pulls him closer to the base, uncovering a surprisingly large wooden cabin. 

“Is this the ‘tree house’?” Nick inquires as they approach it. Somewhere between well kept and festering, it was both inviting and deathly, still he had no room to complain; she, after all, was helping him. The door was well built and the hinges weren’t too rusted, so there was minimal squealing as they opened and closed it behind them.

“Yeah, it was originally a hare who came up with the idea, so it’s roomier than most of us are used to.” She explains as she pulled him towards a couch slightly away from the wall. The floor wasn’t terrible, but as he followed the walls to the ceiling… Her height had undoubtedly played a major role in the half and half.

“You know,  _ tree houses  _ are normally  _ in  _ the tree, right?” Nick questions through a pained expression as she carefully lowered him onto the older sofa. It wasn’t dirty per se, and actually had a pleasant smell to it, but it was definitely ‘used’ and he didn’t want to think about what ‘used’ meant in the case of rabbits.

“What kind of bunny lives in a tree? I want to be different, but not  _ that  _ different.” Judy responds as she backs away, and cautiously leans onto a support beam closer to the center of the room. He noticed that she was guarded, making sure she didn’t turn her back on him; of course, no sane person would just accept what was happening, hell, if he were in her position… he probably would’ve called the cops anyway. It takes a special type of mammal to trust a fox.

“Different, huh? How so?” He continues sinking into the flattened springs, hoping to relax her, at least slightly.

“Well, I’m not sure if you overheard, given the condition I found you in, but… I don’t want to fall into the redundant life that most rabbits live. I mean, practically all of my ancestors were carrot farmers till the day they died and my parents seem to want everyone to follow in their footsteps… It’s just not a life for me, you know?” His cocked smile grew slightly larger as her shoulders lower.

“Not afraid to lay out your thoughts, huh?” He smugly replies, smirking slightly more at her lassitude response; it wasn’t much in the way of trust, but at least she was giving him a chance.

“Hey, you asked.” She lightly answered. Judy perks when Nick shivers again, a light gust of wind flowing through the window pane in the adjacent wall. She quickly pushes off the beam and scurries over to a trunk in the corner of the room, the rustling of leaves overwhelm her mumble of words. Nick watches as she opens the ancient, yet not dusty, chest and pulls out a bundle of clothes neatly folded and clean as well as a few towels. She tosses him the towels and continues to search through the rest of the pile; her words slowly leveling out in his ears. 

“--was about your height… I guess, we can only hope something fits.” Nick gently pats down his exposed fur, the white towels begin to stain crimson. He silently sighs hiding it as she approaches him with a button-up, green hawaiian shirt and a pair of brown khakis. “Try these, they’re the best I’ve got here.” She lays the outfit next to him and he stares questionably up at her.

“Carrots, I feel like I should buy you dinner before I get naked.” He sarcastically states, a deep scarlet pierced through her grey fur as she begins to stumble towards the doorway.

“Oh- o-of course! I-I wasn’t trying-” She’s interrupted by the faint shrill of metal. The door slowly opened and revealed a young buck. He stood marginally taller than Judy and was accompanied by a relatively oversized duffle bag and a younger buck aside him.

“Judy!” The kit called out as he stepped into the cabin. He wrapped himself around her leg as the older one accessed the old shack. 

“Kept care of it, huh?” He states shaking his head. Nick notices as the rabbit caught him in the corner of his eye; his body tensed, ears peaked, and was clearly prepared to flee at a moment's notice. This was more so the response Nick is use to, at least he has the decency not to stare.

“Hey Alex, hey Bucky thanks for coming.” Judy lifts the kitten up into her arms and steps in to give the other a hug. The buck pulls back quickly.

“Hey Jude, mind if we talk outside?” He grips her hand and pulls her out the door, closing it slowly behind. Nick rolls his eyes and leisurely stands and walks to close the panels of the window; he knew they what they were discussing. 

He begins to peel the shredded, now just damp, clothing from his coated fur and carefully pats himself down. The same thought continuing to run through his head…  _ How did this happen?  _ This is the first time he’s failed a mission, and for good reason… But as he continues to ponder, a new thought intrudes his mind:  _  Why do I keep doing this? _ He glances at his paw, doused in blood that’s not his own, he understood he never felt quite right before either. In fact, as he exposes a deep gouge that stretched across the right side of his torso and an indescribable burning stitch nearly overwhelming him, he feels he deserves it. 

“How do you even know him?” He overhears  _ Bucky  _ yelling, though in a low whisper; Nick snaps back into reality cautiously tending to more of his fur.

“Well…  _ Know _ is such a strong word.” She responds warily.

“You brought a stranger? Here? Alone?” Bucky’s tone grew less quiet as he spoke. 

“I found him on the bank of the river near dead! What did you expect me to do, leave him?” She exclaims back also losing the subtlety. 

“No, of course not, but I would’ve expected you to call 911! You’re more sensible than this!” Nick began to feel nauseous.

“He asked me not to.” His world began to spin.

“Oh, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding… and of course it’s not like a fox to lie to further his goals! Did you even check for wounds, he cou--” Bucky’s words faded into the ether as Nick collapses.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Bucky_ **

 

Bucky halts as they hear a loud thud resonating through the wood. 

“Nick?” Judy yells through the doorway before cracking open the door. She peers through the small hole viewing the unconscious fox, a bloodied towel and a deep laceration still leaking blood.

“Nick!” She forcefully throws the door open and rushes to his side. Bucky glances around the corner and stops Alex from doing the same.

“What’s going on?” The kit questions as Bucky keeps his hand pressed against his chest. 

“Hey buddy, daddy is going to have to work, ‘kay?” Alex sighed and leaned against the outer wall as Bucky entered the building, closing the door behind him. Being so far away from any major hospitals in The Burrows,  _ Doctor Warren _ generally ended up moonlighting as a freelance health professional. Someone who would take care of the medical needs for those who had an older relative or didn’t have much in the way of health insurance and couldn’t take their problems to a hospital, so when Bucky said he’s ‘going to work.’ It told his kitten to stay out of the area.

Bucky steps from the entrance, Judy uncertainly trying to help the fox by applying pressure to the wound; she glances up at him as he grabs onto her shoulder.

“Go out and keep Alex company.” His voice is demanding which normally sets her off in his experience, but Judy nods and walk away from them. Bucky cautiously kneels next to the fox reaching his paw out and pressing down onto his wrist; his radial pulse was weak, but present.

“Alright Mr. Fox… Let’s se-” He pulls his hand away from him noticing a crimson liquid smothering his finger tips. Bucky sighs, hoping that it was the foxes blood and not someone else’s and wipes it off on the already bloody towel. He drops the duffle back and pulls out a pair of gloves and a metallic spoon. Stretching the gloves over his paws, he places the spoon infront of the fox’s muzzle watching intently as small breaths begin to engulf it with condensation. 

“Airway is unobstructed.” He states as a mental note to himself. Bucky then glances at the real problem, the gash across his torso.

“Deep.” He sullenly states to himself; he didn’t have anything to ensure his intestines weren’t punctured,  _ nothing except _ … Bucky cringes as he begins to lean closer to the wound, keeping his eye on the fox’s face. His nose twitches as he methodically inhales:  _ copper, iron, slight festering, no fecal scent.  _ Rabbits don’t have quite the strong sense of smell that other mammals do, but he is familiar enough with the aromas to make a quick judgement call.  _ Minor infection, between 20-25 stitches.  _ Bucky removes an array of tools each within sealed plastic he’s labeled ‘sterile’, alcohol, Yak Daniels liquor, and a tupperware labeled ‘Waste.’

“Alright, fox. Hope you don’t wake up, cause this is going to hurt… A lot.” He takes a swig of the whiskey, but drops it as something frigid wraps around his wrist. He leaps back, free of the icy grip staring at the bottle in the fox’s paw and follows it up as he swills about half of the bottle. Bucky, remains distant as he regains his calm breath and the fox rolls onto his back.

“Don’t move, you’ll make it worse.” Bucky demands keeping his distance and pulling his duffle bag closer to him. 

“Just getting more comfortable, especially if this next part is going to hurt as much as you say.” He responds smugly. He grabs the bottle of alcohol and pours it over the wound, groaning as the liquid rolls over it, onto the towel laid out below. Without word he wraps his arms around the support beam above his head.

“What’re you doing?” Bucky questions his hands hidden by a side of the bag.

“Well, you’re not grabbing onto that rope for no reason.” They pause as the fox glares into Bucky’s eyes and lays his head back down onto the floor.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” Bucky carefully draws near him and wraps the rope around his wrists above the support beam. “Hey, Judy! Take Alex away from here for a while.” 

“What? Why?” She responds through the door. 

“Don’t worry too much Carrots, just do what he says for now.” Nick requests, smiling slightly with the booze starting to kick in. Bucky takes another belt.

“Okay. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, I guess.” 

“That should be fine.” Bucky’s ear perks and turns to the doorway listening to their voices and footsteps fade. He examines the wound once again, scanning the scorched and rotted flesh around the laceration. “So let’s hear it fox.”

“It’s Nick, and it’s like Carrots said: I got into a fight with the wrong people.” He responds casually as Bucky tears open a package containing a pair of tweezers and one containing a scalpel.

“Right, and did one of them use a military-grade plastic explosive?” Bucky inquires using a gauze sponge to absorb some of the blood, Nick cringes prior to a smile.

“I wouldn’t say military-grade.” 

“So who are you?” 

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” 

“As I’m sure you have before.” He begins to remove the rotted flesh around the wound; Nick grunts in pain as his claws begin to dig deeply into the support beam. Bucky was impressed that, aside a few shivers and tensing of the muscles, the fox remained still; he backs away and grabs onto the alcohol once again.

“This is going to sting.” Nick begins to growl and let out slight whimpers as the liquid washes the fresh blood away. Bucky begins working faster to separate more of the rotted skin and repeats, until none remained. He allowed the fox to calm from the pain, keeping gauze on the wound and lifts the bottle to his mouth once again. Nick drinks copiously nearly draining the rest of the rabbit sized bottle. Bucky pulls it away and drinks the rest.

“Ready for the fun part?” 

“Yes.” Nick states through a whine and shaking his head ‘no.’

“That’s the spirit.” He begins pulling more plastic packages open to a needle and surgical thread. “There’s just enough to suture, but you’re going to suffer, a lot.” The fox continues to shake his head and cringes as Bucky sticks the needle through; he carefully sews it together through Nick’s growls and trembles. He cuts the remaining thread with the scalpel, ties it off, and pours another league of alcohol over it before holding gauze over it. The fox begins to calm down, his tail twitching in relief.

“So,” Nick heaves through a hoarse throat and cotton mouth, “where’d you serve?”

“Serve, huh?” Bucky shakes his head as the fox begins to arch his back. The rabbit wraps the bandage around his torso, cutting and tucking it in. “Third colony, land infantry. Few years back.” 

“Against the  _ savages _ to the south or pompous bastards to the west?” Nick continues, the whiskey slightly slurring his words.

“A local tribe just a few miles east of the Burrows.” He replies scooting himself to the opposite wall. 

“Never been out east…” 

“A large tribe of foxes. Smart, swift, and utterly ruthless.”

“So, your adverseness makes some sense.”

“Still not okay. Apologies, nothing personal, to you… Unfortunately, it’s very personal to me.” They sit in silence for the next few minutes before Judy’s voice became more apparent through the mute atmosphere. She slowly opens the door.

“What the  _ hell  _ is going on here!” She exclaims stepping to and untying Nick’s hands.

“Just finished up.” Bucky states as Nick cautiously lifts himself against the wooden beam and rubs his wrists.

“Why’d you tie him up?” She demands looming over Bucky.

“Check the claw marks on the post? It was for both of us Carrots.” Nick interrupts before the buck could reply giving him a wink when Judy glanced towards Alex in the doorway. She stubbornly sighs.

“Alright, fine. Where do we go from here?” She requests glaring back and forth between both of them.

“We’re not calling the cops.” Bucky replies lifting himself to his feet and picking up his tools. “And I’m sure… Mr. Nick here, has to get back.” He nods at Nick, lifting the strap of the duffle bag over his shoulder.

“It’s true. I hate to leave so soon, but life calls.” Nick pulls himself to his feet gripping onto his side. Bucky nears the entrance and slows at the sound of a compressing spring; without delay he rushes to the door, tossing Alex from the door frame as a dart pierces his chest. He stumbles slightly as his body begins to tingle, his head light, until he drops to the ground unconscious.


	2. Training Kicking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy kicks ass and glimpse into Nick's bleak past and how ingrained his training is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, word of warning, this chapter gets a little dark.

**_Judy_ **

 

Judy and Nick stare at the unconscious rabbit, a large dart, similar to a syringe with a fletch on the bottom of it, protruding from his chest.

“Bucky!” Judy calls out, but it stopped by Nicks paw, “what’re you-” She pauses glancing up at the fox; his eyes narrowed outside of the doorway; his ears perked; his teeth clenched and showing, like one who’s gone feral and ready to kill at a moment's notice. She steps away slightly trembling in fear; it’s a look she’s never seen before, and on the one she was still a stranger to… It terrified her.

“Stay away from him!” Nick barks in a low voice. Alex jumps at his request, halting his approach to his father.

“You can’t expect us to leave him there!” Judy exclaims back attempting to round the fox with a wide spread. His eyes connect with hers and a cold shiver runs through her spine.

“They’re after me!” He snarls; his expression relaxes as he approaches Judy. “Thank you… Wait for me to get clear of here, then you can tend to him.” He places a paw between her laid back ears and begins to move away from her. She was still frozen, the chill still emulating through her body, but she watches as Nick places his back against the wall next to the door gripping tightly onto his side. He peers around the corner and jumps back, with a grunt of pain, at a whistle in the wind, another dart shatters against a support beam and leaks a clear liquid down the wood. She snaps into reality as Nick sprints out the door and with a deep, stuttered breath, she flits to Alex. 

“Are you alright?” She inquires, taking another sharp inhale of relief as the kit timidly nods. Judy stares at Bucky, body still motionless, and slowly approached cautiously peering outside of the door similar to Nick. Her ears perk as another whistle approaches and she scrambles out of the way of the dart, it shatters as the other did. Without hesitation, Judy latches onto Bucky’s arm and hastily drags him out of the frame and closer to Alex; footsteps quickly approaching the doorway.

“Stay here. Close your eyes and cover your ears. Don’t stop doing so until I say so, ‘kay?” She whispers to him and pulls the dart from Bucky’s chest. Judy leaps up, grabbing onto the rotted, wooden beams stretching across the roof; she pulls herself up attempting to ignore the creaking of the moist lumber. The footsteps, in a clear sprint, approached the entrance as Judy hovered above patiently waiting until she saw it; a species she’s only ever read about before. She didn’t have much time to ponder as it reached the opening, swiftly dropping the barrel towards Alex; without hesitation, Judy swings down from the beam kicking it in the head, forcing it out the door and to slide on the ground. 

“Ha!” Judy brags before the beam gives way. She plummets to the floor with the timber landing on top of her and knocking the wind out of her.  _ Stupid? Yes, but it worked.  _ She pushes it off of her, slowly sitting up as a hiss echoes through her ears; it was up and running already, heading straight for her. Judy rolled back as it reached her, thrusting her feet into it’s stomach and slinging it over her into the cabin. It clashes with the ground, easily recuperating onto it’s feet again facing Judy already prepared for another assault. They quickly exchange glare as she notices a smile creeping across it’s face and is met with a creak directly behind her. Before she could react, another one wrapped it’s arms around her throat.

“You’ve got fight.” The one in front of her hisses. Its voice is displeasing, to say the least, dry, yet humid, heavy, and singes her ears, similar to what Judy would relate to when she caught the tip of her ear on fire. “I like that.” It walks towards her uncovering a serrated dagger from the forest green cloak draped over its entire body. She struggles against the hold, kicking at the approaching creature, but growing weaker unable to breathe. Judy’s vision begins to tunnel prior to its grip loosening, both stumble back and collapse onto the floor; she drifts sluggishly back to reality, watching as Nick stands between them. 

“Get the others out of here.” He demands. The creature strategically slashes the blade back and forth at him, with pinpoint precision not giving a moment of delay before the next attack, yet Nick evades them with ease. Judy regains her mobility, not vacillating to rush to Alex and Bucky.

“Let’s go!” She exclaims shaking the kit’s shoulder and lifting the unconscious buck. They swiftly rush outside, the artificial twilight becoming nearly pitch black with the setting sun; she guides them to the outskirts of the banyan tree. “If anything comes, yell for me.” She demands setting Bucky on a bundle of branches and pulling Alex to his side. Judy rushes back to the cabin, stepping inside to only see Nick tying the two onto the wooden support.

“Where are the others?” He instantly demands rushing to her.

“They’re out by the edge of the tree. I was coming back to help.” She replies to him still surging with adrenaline.

“No… No, you’ve helped enough.” He states glaring back at the creatures.

“Did- did you use us as bait?” She questions aggravated.

“It turned out that way, though I never expected any of them to come after you.”

“‘Turned out that way?’ ‘Never expected?!’ There was a child here!” 

“I did what I could!” They both glance back at the creatures as one lets out a groan. “We need to get out of here… The doc, did he bring a car?” 

“Probably… Wait, what do you mean by we?” 

“Look, I don’t know why they came after you, and I don’t intend on finding out why their way. I’m taking you and doc to a secure location.” 

“‘ _ Secure location? _ ’ Just who the hell are you Nick?” She demands as she feels a needle prick into her stomach.

“I hope you can forgive me for this Carrots.” She quickly grows weaker until her vision fades to black.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Nick_ **

 

Nick holds her close as her body becomes limp, then lifts her up walking to and laying her gently down onto the couch, setting the syringe and a bottle of a clear liquid next to her.

“Wake up. I didn’t hit you hard enough to knock you out or kill you.” He lays his ears back trying to dull the laughter of one of the creatures.

“You should’ve.” It states as he turns glaring into its black eyes. A species of predator is what they were… Well more like several, essentially the ‘apex’ of pred evolution established through millennia of cross-species relationships followed shortly with inbreeding and gene therapy; they looked like hell and sounded worse. However, Nick couldn’t write them off; they were fast, near silent, strong, very keen in senses, and had years of military training that lead them to be more dangerous then most natural disasters when it came to Zootopia as a civilization. The assassins of the west, bred and born to be killers; they were at the top when it came to Nick’s targets, as he was in a similar situation.

“Well, what’s the fun in that?” Nick responds stepping to the creature. “And of course, if I get a few answers, then all the better.” He internally cringes as he feels a smile stretches across his muzzle.  _ This is not enjoyable! _

“I’d love to see you make me talk.” It replies, Nick’s smile twists accepting the challenge; his mammality shoved far from the surface. 

“In due time. I have a few questions that I know you’ll answer first, without quarrel.” Nick glances down at Carrot’s phone in his paw. 

“How’d you know of my mission.” He demands as his fingers tap the screen, entering an all too familiar number; its cackle pierces his eardrums.

“Someone called for your retirement.” Nick’s expression widened before slacking into something more apathetic.  _ Retirement.  _ The word rings through his head; he knows what ‘retirement’ meant for most, if not all, in his field:  _ expiration.  _

“Someone from yours or mine?” Nick continues lifting the ringing call to his ear.

“You’ll have to find out.” 

_ Hmm…  _ He sighs before the call is answered, utter silence on the other end.

“Sweeper, 029817, trace call for location.” He ends the call and snaps the phone in two. Nick wouldn’t be surprised if someone from his syndicate called for an execution, and he truly dreads the reality, oddly not for his sake however. He glances back at the bunny.

“Why try to kill them?”

“You have rules too, no? No witnesses, no aids-” 

“No allies…” Nick finishes. “...How’d you track me here? I floated down the river quite a ways.” It smiles again nodding towards him. Nick growls in disbelief rubbing his fingers along a spherical bump protruding from his right forearm.  _ Remove it? No, I’ll need proof first.  _

“Believe or choose not to, it won’t matter in a day.” It states leaning its head back onto the support, a satisfied grin across what Nick thinks is it’s face.

“How many more are coming?” He requests reaching into Bucky’s duffle bag and removing a pair of surgical scissors and an unused syringe. 

“Let us commence.” It states as Nick opens his mouth grabbing onto small metallic vial sewn onto his bottom gum and cutting the thread with the scissors. He lifts the syringe piercing the top of it and removes the red liquid content entirely as he kneels down to its eye level.  The needle punctures through its contorted chest and Nick forces the liquid into the creature’s heart; nearly instantly, it begins to vomit.

“A modified virus from a tick, said to attack the nervous system, among others. And though, its effects vary, they’re always instantaneous when injected into the bloodstream.” He presses very softly on the tip of it’s tail as it begins to wail in pain. Nick grins wrapping his fingers around its muzzle and clamping it closed. “Shh, shh, shh, we wouldn’t want the little one to hear you, now do we?” He lets go allowing it to calm slightly, still writhing in agony. “Do we feel more talkative?” 

“What’s it matter? It won’t make this better.” It speaks through heaved breaths, Nick could see it was trying to remain sane, unable to fall unconscious.

“On the contrary…” Nick reaches back into his mouth and removes another vial waving it in front of it. “This isn’t some miracle cure, rather it destroys your peripheral nerves. A permanent pain killer.” He sets it on the floor between the two.

“This’ll still end in my death.” It attempts to convince itself.

“While that’s true, you have the choice of this for the next 48-72 hours, or you could go more peacefully. And given your species ability to resist death by disease, it’ll likely be closer to 72.” Nick shrugs. He stands silently, smiling with glee at the pained groans as it visually ponders the choices.

“What do you want?” It requests through a foamed mouth.

“Simple, who called for me? And how many more are coming for me?” He responds as they fall into a near mute atmosphere, excluding its throes of agony.

“I- I don’t know who… It’s not my place to know…” It heaves again, vomiting up the empty contents of its stomach, “There will be more, those that are left, until we can confirm your death or we go extinct.”

“How did you track me?” He demands lifting the vial into its field of view.

“We never did, messengers reported a new location every now and then until we arrived here, I swear I don’t know how they did.” It shrivels as the pain grows more intense. Nick quickly drains the blue liquid into the syringe and injects it into the creature, his smile lost. It stops struggling immediately taking feeble breaths of relief.

“Where are you from?” Nick requests setting the empty container on the floor.

“Why does it matter?” 

“The last of a mammal’s thoughts should be of home.”

“I don’t have a home.” Its response was honest, Nick, at least, knew that.

“And yet, you fight so admittedly.” He shakes his head, unsure whether he’s referring to himself or the creature more and sits down in front of it, crossing his legs.

“It’s what I was born for.” It responds with a sadistic tone, chuckling. Nick waits and watches quietly as it slowly slips away, releasing a heavy sigh as it takes its last breath. He knows the other one is probably dead as well, Nick didn’t hold back when he saw it wrapped around the bunny. He stares at his paws before glancing over at the pile of fluff again. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, fully aware of the uselessness, and lifts himself to his feet. Nick grabs the outfit she picked out earlier and cleans himself completely before donning the clothing. He grabs the syringe and fills it with the clear liquid from the bottle again before picking Carrots up. Stepping through the door and into the cold night barely able to see even with his vision, Nick carefully hikes through the roots and climbs over branches walking ever closer to the incandescent moonlight. He lays the bunny down at an opening between the knotted branches and leaves of the banyan tree and searches for Bucky and Alex who were not far; Bucky was still unconscious and Alex was sleeping, wrapped across his chest with wetted cheeks. Nick quietly clears the frog caught in his throat as he slowly approached, piercing the syringe into the kit’s arm and injecting a small portion of it. He carries them to where he left Judy and leaves momentarily to search for Bucky’s vehicle; though sighing and slightly laughing as he approaches a Vulpeswagon beetle.  _ For someone so obstinate on not trusting foxes, owning a car made by them… ironic or no?  _ It is slightly bigger than most, but definitely made for a rabbit. Nick gathers them and places them gently into the vehicle before struggling to climb in himself.  _ Cramped and cluttered _ , he huffs slamming the door.  _ I feel like a contortionist.  _ He starts the car and begins to drive. “The Meadowlands, huh?” He states to himself.

 

Hours pass by as they proceed through the city, and across several bridges over the canals until they reach a house overlooking a forest from the pinnacle of a vast hill. It stands tall, two stories for a larger mammal, marble white exterior, mainly flat roof other than the single peaks above each entrance along the centerline of the structure. It contained an abundance of windows, allowing a view in every direction with dark oak window panes matching the doors. Nick pulls the vehicle into the driveway and exits walking up to the front porch of the building. It has been years since Nick was standing here, yet alone actually in Zootopia. A wave of nostalgia overcomes him as he stares at his parent’s house, slightly more rough from wear but, nevertheless, the same. He never much liked coming here: too flashy, too exposed, too… personal. 

Nick walks to the door, but stops immediately preparing for an attack as he notices it is ajar; he opens it just enough, swiftly sliding into the house, yet drops his guard instantly as a familiar scent wafts past his nose, a smell very particular. A strong hint of vanilla, butterscotch, and honeysuckle hidden within freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Nick silently rounds the corner to the kitchen viewing the back of a vixen so familiar, fur still vibrant and smooth and only beginning to grey; of a vixen he wished he could speak to again above all else. She turns around jumping at the sight of him.

“Nick!” She yells out. His illusion is shattered through teary eyes as someone else buries herself into his chest.

“Sis?” 

“I was so worried, when we lost contact… I assumed the worst!” She exclaims looking up to his glistening eyes. “What happened? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing!” He exclaims turning around to wipe away the tears with his forearm and piecing himself back together.  _ Damnit!  _ Nick wants to punch himself in the gut for being so weak; for turning into the his six year old self anytime he even imagines his mother.

“So what happened?” She inquires seemingly just to break the silence.

“I took a great vaction to the countryside.” Nick replies sarcastically inspecting the living room. Plasma TV hanging off the wall between two windows with the curtains pulled to the sides, a total of three couches in the shape of an ‘L’ in the center on a patch of white carpet, and a chandelier hangs down from the ten foot high ceiling, glistening in the moonlight. Nick almost feels sick physically at the damage done to his old home. “Renovated I see.”

“Yeah, you never seemed too interested in this old place, so I decided to take care of it.” 

_ Take care. Yeah sure…  _ Nick scoffs rubbing his forehead.

“Is anyone else here?” He demands walking into the adjacent hallway. A long corridor that leads from the front door to the back and contains what should be the only set of stairs in the house and a door that leads to a basement, if his memory serves correct.

“No, I may have invaded but I wouldn’t betray your wish.” He sighs, thankful, dropping his guard and turns back to her.

“How long do you plan on staying here?” Nick inquires as she walks into the living room with a plate of cookies.

“Three years since we’ve seen each other, and a full week since you disappeared and that’s what you ask?” She nearly drops the ceramic on a coffee table positioned in equally from all sides of the couch.  _ A coffee table?  _ Nick ponders as he watches the top light up as an LCD screen, a map of the continent on it.

“So, I assume the tracer is broken.” Nick states walking over to the map, several red dots lit throughout the continent, though not where they were.

“Yeah, normally it only dies with the mammal.” She glares up at him, still apparently furious; he sighs trying to calm his own nerves. Anyone from his syndicate could be the reason that he’s being targeted, even the one mammal he’s known since he was recruited eighteen years ago; if he gives away that he knows and, if she is the one they ordered, they may end up trying to kill each other. 

“What happened Nick? The higher ups are freaking out; it’s not like you to disappear and more so to fail.” 

“Can I trust you?” 

“What?” Nick glares into her zaffre eyes trying to detect any form of lying. Eye movement, body move movement, even his ears were cocked in a way that he was able to detect her heartbeat.

“Can I, trust you?” He demands again; the vixen’s chest raises and lowers as she takes a deep breath and lifts her body to exert a more confident posture.

“Nicholas Wilde, I trust you with my life, and I expect the same from you.” Nick scoffs.  _ My life… My life means nothing to me.  _ He glimpses as she swallows a fit of rage, patiently waiting for his response.

“I have been targeted for retirement.” He speaks through his teeth, clenching his fist readying himself for a fight; her expression widens then becomes something more apathetic. 

“By who, ours or theirs?” She questions.

“Don’t know, I caught two Shaitan’s when I came to, and all I found out is I am being hunted. So, I’ll ask again, when are you leaving?” Nick continues as she sits down moving the pastries off the display and begins to type in something that Nick couldn’t understand.

“I know I made a lot of changes that you don’t appreciate, but I have improved a lot of the defenses your mother originally made.” As she finishes typing on the on screen keyboard metallic shutters cover the windows and a passel of paintings uncover a plethora of weapons; Nick shakes his head.

“What’re we in some kinda lame spy movie?” He couldn’t help but to mock and she glares at him; Nick silently inspects the armaments, many are decades old, many more futuristic. He lifts a 1979 Lutra from the pins it’s hanging from, a weapon his father cared for before he died in a war with the west. He was five then.

“When they come, we’ll be ready.” She responds leaning back onto the sofa.

“You know, my father used this particular pistol.” Nick states listening as she shifts; her curiosity definitely peaked… Or something more sinister. He turns to her glaring down the barrel of a Colt in her paw. “This model always jammed, never found out why he loved it so much. Even in the war, this weapon failed him as the Shaitan’s assassinated his entire lead.” She slightly whimpers as a tear rolls down her cheek, Nick staring at her with grim eyes. “But, even those who equipped automatic weapons, or buck shots, or even more versatile weapons never stood a chance against them. Know why?” Her paw trembles as Nick’s gaze becomes more ferocious.  _ ‘Backed into a corner, even the strongest mammal will show their true colors’  _ “It was because they couldn’t keep up.” Nick bounds for her. The vixen pulls the trigger as Nick veers right, the bullet piercing through his shoulder as he burrows his teeth in her throat. She drops the gun, struggling to breath; Nick slowly lowers them both and slides his legs underneath her as they reach the ground, releasing her from the grip of his jaw. The flavor of copper overcoming his taste buds aiding him to hold back the tears.

“N-Nick… I’m- s-sorry.” She chokes on her own blood as he runs his paw across her head.

“Shh, save your breath.” He replies in a gentle voice, “you were doing what you were ordered to.” His voice cracks as she struggles to keep her eyes open. She did what they ingrained into her: follow orders, no matter what; however, his training lead him differently:  _ survive _ . “I’m sorry this is what our reunion came to. I mean as for dramatic, this takes the cake.” He states with a devoid chuckle. She smiles reaching up her paw and brushing away the tear that broke through his barrier; she slowly reaches for the table. Nick hesitantly reaches for her wrist pulling back with her muffled ‘no.’ She presses onto the screen returning the house to the way it was before falling limp; he laments lifting her into his chest. Nick jumps aiming the pistol at the rabbit as he rounds the corner from the entranceway.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Bucky_ **

 

“How long have you been there?” The fox demands not lowering the Lutra; Bucky gulps gazing at the blood smothering the fox. 

“Long enough.” He responds, and he was there ‘long enough’ to learn things he knew shouldn’t have; Bucky’s worked with Nick’s kind before, unable to speak about anything themselves for fear of death. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fully expects a bullet in the head… But it never comes, instead he opens them to the fox nuzzling her corpse, humming, in a sweet tone, a song he doesn’t recognize. Bucky stands before them unable to move and requests, albeit for fear, pity or possibly both, “tell me about her.” Swallowing further questions.

“What’s there to tell?” Nick tenderly kisses the top of her head.

“What’s her name?” Bucky acknowledges his hesitation. 

“Mary A-.” The fox’s answer was choked, and unfinished, “I called her sis.”

“Sis? She is your sister?” Bucky couldn’t help but to bite his tongue.

“Was, and not biologically.” Nick explains as he begins to pull away and lays her delicately onto the blood stained carpet, opening a drawer that was underneath the display. He drags a blanket from it and attentively covers her tucking it underneath her body. “She shared the same name as my mother, and unfortunately I’m still unable to even say it without entirely breaking down.” He walks into the kitchen as Bucky remains still, staring at the corpse; he is a doctor and dead bodies never really affected him, even as a student or in a battle. But this was different, this one was murdered right in front of him, and killed by someone who cared for her so dearly. “She was the one who I trained with since I was six… In sparring, weapons, counterintelligence, espionage…” He steps back into the living room, his muzzle ruffled and clean. The fox lifts a bottle of vodka, way too big for a fox, to his mouth and drinks a large portion of it. “She was the first mammal, well the only mammal really, that I could connect with. I called her sis for the first time fifteen years ago, and it stuck I guess.” Bucky stifles his vacant stare as the fox returns to her side. “May be a little late, but what’s your name?” 

“What?” 

“You were hit by a tranquilizer that had the potency to knock out a horse for three hours, I want to make sure there’s not too much damage.” 

“Jeremy Warren, I’m a doctor out in the Burrows, my kit’s name is Alex and I met you, what I hope was, this afternoon.” 

“Main stuff’s still there. You know, your real name is no less punny than ‘Bucky’ is.” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief as the fox makes the joke; humor is a natural response to tragedy for some, but this, this was indifference. He seemed almost unaffected by the situation, or, comparatively to earlier, recovered entirely.

“Where do we go from here?” He replies.

“I brought you here for a reason… For now, you should go back to the car with the others, I’ll get rid of the body before either of them wake up.”

“Get rid of?!” Bucky’s response was a little more aggressive than he intended and instantly regretted it as the fox’s glare pierced through him like the cold scythe of death.

“Yes, get rid of.” He replies with the same resonance, but with a feral demeanor so parallel to those to the east; Bucky gulps allowing his anger to overcome his fear.

“What do you mean get rid of her?” He continues with impatients underlying his low tone, standing firm though feeling himself shiver as Nick leaps to his feet.

“Dispose of, discard, you know for a doctor, you certainly need a lot of explanation.” The fox answers raising his voice, desperately trying to keep grasp on his phlegmatic appearance. 

“What is wrong with you? You obviously cared for her, how could you sim-” 

“It was what I was trained to do! It’s the same reason for how we could so easily turn on each other!” He shouts back, his voice cracking. “It’s all I know to do.”

“I was trained to kill those like you, yet I saved your life! I was raised to get married and have lots of kids like all of my siblings, yet I only have Alex and no wife! I understand our situations are cosmically different, and you, you’ve probably seen more hell than any one mammal should, but I’ve seen less destroy a someone and if you expect me to have any faith in you… I have to know if you’re still alive!” He jumps onto the couch, decreasing the distance between them with every word until he glared directly into the fox’s crimson eyes; Bucky’s body continues to tremble as Nick growls. 

“What would you have me do then?” He questions dropping his guard enough to allow a glimpse of how tired the fox is.

“Give her a proper burial.” Bucky responds with a weary tone.

“We are nothing but shadows in this city, nobody can know we even exist.”  _ What does that mean for us?  _ Bucky smothers the questions rising in his head, focusing on the situation.

“You and I are here, that should be plenty.”

“What you just wanna dig a hole? What’s the point in that?” 

“It’s likely a better scenario than what you had in mind.” Bucky watches the fox ponder the idea and after a lengthy moment, Nick sighs.

“Fine, I do owe her that much at least.”

The fox leaves the room and walks to the adjacent hallway, Bucky following closely behind until he walks through a door in the center. He glances around the corner, peering into a deep black stairwell, Nick too far down for him to see.  _ Nothing like following a natural enemy into a dark pit.  _ He takes a step down listening to a loud crash closer to the bottom and a furious growl. 

“You alright?” Bucky instinctively shouts.

“Fine.” Nick responds in a fury.  _ I’ll wait here.  _ After a couple minutes of listening to the fox rummage below, several items probably breaking in his rage, Bucky watches him fade back into his vision with two shovels in paw.

“There’s a tree out back, old cherry blossom tree that my parents and I planted a long time ago. I remember Sis falling for it when she first saw it.” He pants, presenting both to Bucky; he raises a brow to the fox, the handle stretching nearly his entire length. 

“Let’s get to work then.” He follows Nick back into the living room watching as he lifts her body carefully into his arms, leading them into the light of the full moon at its zenith. They reach the trunk, the bright pink leaves battle against the dull gray tint of the night. He lays her body next to it stepping a few feet away, pulling a shovel away from Bucky, and begins to dig; Bucky quickly joins him in silence.  _ When did this come commonplace?  _ He ponders clenching his teeth. _ I’m burying a body that I saw murdered.  _ After experiencing what he saw and listening in on their conversation, he didn’t doubt the fox in what he does, his job. But Bucky sighs praying that he’ll hold onto his sanity enough to figure out why Nick brought them along, and hopefully make it out alive in the end.

The next couple hours were spent in silence, excluding the insects, as they dug the four foot deep hole, lower the tensing body, and replace the soil; a small mound now in its place. He glimpses the foxes discomfort with the situation.

“Not used to this kinda thing.” Nick states probably catching Bucky’s assessment.

“You and me both… Say your goodbyes. You’ll allow less to get pent up that way.” 

“Uh… okay. Well, goodbye sis.”

“Really?” He glares questionably at the fox. “I can’t tell if you were trying to be sarcastic.” Nick glowers back down at him.

“I did what you asked, let’s go back.” He speaks defensively, and begins to walk back into the house. “Carrots should be waking up by now and we cannot stay here.”

“What happened to them?” Bucky inquires.

“I injected both with a tranquilizer.” Nick answers indifferently.

“You damn well better have a good reason for drugging my son!” He sneers as the fox simply turns his head so one eye meets with his and nods. They proceed into the house, leaving the shovels leaned up against the outside door frame, out the front door, and back to the car. Nick opens the passenger door hovering over Judy, gently shaking her awake. Her eyes slowly begin to part before snapping open and slugging his wounded shoulder; the fox leaps back turning around and kneeling down in pain.

“Guess I’m not as fast.” Bucky overhears him mumble to himself before standing, “Ignorance is bliss.” The fox states looking up at him fatigued.

“What happened?” She exclaims frantically searching her thoughts. Judy must of found them because her next scowl at Nick nearly struck fear in Bucky. “What happened?” She demands her tone more targeted.

“I drugged you.” The fox answered honestly, glancing down at the blood soaked shirt.

“What?” She demands as Nick begins for the house.

“Talk to the doc for now, I’ve got to, do something.” He enters the building.

“What’s going on Jeremy?” She fumes scowling at him. 

“I don’t know everything, but he brought us here for a reason. May as well hear him out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter for me to write personnally, but I think it turned out well. A testament to
> 
> what the syndicate is actually like, and what's to come next. 
> 
> Sorry for the bad feels, if you get them :/
> 
> P.S. How's that for dark SyH? :P


	3. Chapter Three: The consequences of disavowment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk of what's to come...
> 
> A memory...
> 
> And a Nightmare...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally chapter three, yay!!!
> 
> I'm really sorry for the massive delay in posting this. Life got in the way, and to make it up to ya'll I've spent nearly a month on this chapter, trying to polish it, but I won't ever be satisfied with it if I keep editing it. So, I'm posting it now and will continue to edit it while starting on the next chapter.
> 
> Happy reading :)

#  **_Judy_ **

She inhales slowly and exhales in short burst, attempting to rid herself of her vexation and ignore the scalding pricking of the exaggerated pins and needles sensation throughout her body.

“Hear him out, huh?” Judy repeats after a prolonged silence; Jeremy leans against the car, arms folded and a leg propped.

“Yeah… He did kinda save our lives.” He responds resting his head against the car; she could see his exhaustion pouring off in waves as he sighed.

“From a situation he put us in.” She counters sliding to a position where her feet hung over the car seat.

“I don’t remember the fox being the one to call me Jude.” He rebuttals turning his head to meet her gaze.

“I never would’ve involved you if I knew.” She replies placing her left paw on her outstretched right arm cringing slightly at the fresh wave of stings radiating from the touch.

“No, probably not… But you’d get involved yourself; which would get me involved anyway.” Jeremy places his paw on her down head between her down laden ears. “Perk up, we’re going to need for what’s to come.” They pause and glance over at the kitten as he grumbles awake, slowly pulling himself off the backseat; Bucky smiles reaching over her to lift Alex over the seats and out of the vehicle.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She sighs heavily as he begins walking away with the half asleep kit still in his arms.

“Of course I’m right, I’ve only known you since you wanted to be a cop.” She laughs watching them as they round the corner of the house to the front porch and out of her view.  _ A cop _ … She hadn’t thought of that since junior high, but even now she could feel the appeal.  _ Okay _ ! She shakes her head as though to clear it and slides off the seat, yet plummets to the rough concrete underneath her flaccid legs. A torrent of stings and perforating numbness scorch throughout her as she cautiously lifts herself using the open car for support quivering with her exertion. Judy pushes the door shut lurching forward heavily keeping a paw on the ground to prevent herself from collapsing entirely and trudging forward. 

After what feels like an hour of struggling, she glances back panting as though she has run a triathlon yet remains closer to the vehicle than to the house.  _ I… I can do this.  _ She attempts to convince herself but the voice in her head is also wheezing; Judy shakes her head and continues with a deep breath. Her blood runs ice cold following a light chuckle behind her before her world gyrates until she is faced skyward gazing into the stars and the white underfur of Nick’s muzzle, depressed firmly against his dampened fur.

“What are you doing!?” She exclaims flailing.

“I got ya Carrots.” He responds effortlessly fighting against her thrashing.

“I can walk myself!” 

“‘Cause you were doin’ so well… ‘Alright tough guy, let’s go.’” She forcefully relaxes as he pulls her tighter. “I know it’s probably not pleasant Fluff, but bare with it. I’ve been where you’re at now; it’d be daybreak by the time you got inside.” They begin toward the homestead; Judy sinks deeper into his grasp, drawn towards the warmth against the frigid night. “We’re not staying long.” Nick states as they step through the entrance.

“Where’re we going to go?” Bucky immediately inquiries from the couch, Alex resting against him, assumably in the same state as Judy.

“I’ll figure that out on the way.” Nick solemnly answers laying her on the leather before sitting down warily avoiding the black towel set across the floor between him and the center table.

“On the way to what?” Judy speaks up lifting and slumping herself back.

“Somewhere safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“Me.” They allow the next few seconds to drown by in silence until Judy asks,

“and  _ who _ are you Nick?” He and Bucky exchange glances.

“She deserves to know.” Bucky states as she looks at him puzzled and Nick sighs.

“I work for a third party intelligence agency like the ZIA or ZSIS, only this one operates in the shadows of the city; I don’t even think the mayor is aware of its existence. My designation is 029817, Nicholas P. Wilde became a deceased identity erased from the world when I joined. I was in that river because my syndicate has decided they don’t need me anymore, and that means only one thing in my case.” He ceases. Judy keeps a discreet appearance though her fear is rising and Bucky remains unfazed as though he had heard it all before.

“What’s that mean for us?” He questions.

“I need to keep you low and out of sight to those I work with, make sure you’re not known, and then you’ll go back to your lives like nothing ever happened.”

“And if we are?”

“I’ll take care of it.” 

“What makes you so sure you can?”

“Because I’m your only chance.” They pause again; Nick grabs onto his shoulder with a pained expression and walks from the room. Judy pumps her fists and sways her feet hoping to deplete the numbness as she turns to Bucky.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” She inquires, already aware of his answer.

“Y-yeah, I do.” He avoids her stare likely cognizant of her following question.

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I’ve dealt with his kind before.”

“That isn’t an answer, Jeremy.”

“That’s a bullet in his arm from one of his… Associates; I watched as she tried killing him and him killing her in turn.” He pauses taking a deep breath glancing to his kit resting on his shoulder and pulling him into his arms averting his eyes. “Her blood is pooled under that towel. So when it comes to it… No, Judy, I know he’s not lying, but he’s telling us more than we should know… I don’t know if we should trust him.” He draws silent as Nick ambulates back to the sofa, a wet cloth held tightly against his wound, sorely conscious of his steps around the towel.

“I apologize for drugging you.” He breaks the brief, uncomfortable silence slouching back into the couch with a breath of relief. “I was in high hopes that I’d learn something here, so I could ascertain the answers without you being involved. That I could simply have you waking up thinking that it was all a dream.”

“What’s stopping you from keeping us drugged?” Bucky asks with a strong hint of aggression in his voice. 

“I don’t want you in an irreversible coma, that would belabor my actions.” He chuckles hollowly as if trying to dampen the somber atmosphere.

“What about the creatures who attacked us? Are they apart of your, um… agency?” Judy inquires cringing at their memory.

“No… No, those were Shaitans.” Bucky shivers as Nick spoke. “Assassins as it were.”

“Assassins?” Judy perks leaning in to demonstrate her curiosity. 

“Mammals bred and born to do one thing only…” Bucky begins attempting to cover Alex’s ears.

“Kill.” Nick finishes as Judy glances between them puzzled.

“You said they were after you… Should that be something we consider?”

“They are highly dangerous, not stupid.”

“Wait…” Jeremy tries to interrupt a fear visibly building through his body. 

“There’s more operatives than just me across Zootopia; a full assault would be foolish especially with their dwindling numbers.”

“Are you telling me they are the ones you target?” Bucky spits out an instant after his last word.

“Yes, they were the reason my syndicate was instituted.” Jeremy slides off the couch, his head lowered contemplative; Alex still in his arms. 

“Jeremy?” Judy watches as he walks around the arm of the sofa and freezes, his entire body tensed, then glances at Nick who is doing the same. A familiar whistle, preceded by a whisper of shattering glass, momentarily joins the room superseded by the susurrate of a polar breeze. Jeremy drops on one knee reaching back and yanking a dart from his calf. 

Before Judy could blink, she was curled into Nick’s arms and pressed against the soft carpet, a volley hailing into the room; she could see Bucky from underneath the couch huddled around Alex as glass shards rain about. Nick bounds forward, keeping her tucked in his underbelly, and hares around the sofa dragging Jeremy behind the cover with him.

“I am starting to think you’re a magnet… Can you walk?” Nick releases them making sure they remain below the crest of the leather.

“You and me both… Yeah, barely.” They pause to catch their breath before Nick grabs onto Judy’s and Jeremy’s shoulders.

“Carrots, grab the kit. When I give the signal, aim for the kitchen.” The barrage ceases and Nick shoves them forward standing, catching a cylindrical grenade, and hurling it back out the window. He ducks down, covering his eyes and ears as an overpowering flare and an ear-splitting bang reverberate from outside, before bolting towards the kitchen though slows as a digital tone resonates from the center table. His body slouches almost in defeat as Judy shouts after him.

“Nick! Come on!” Bucky rests his drudgingly heavy frame against the adject wall Alex nearly tied around the buck’s waist. Unresponsive to her, Judy rushes back out as another canister soars into the room, dragging him by the wrist back into the room before the flashbang ignites. 

“Nick!” She shouts again over the ringing in her own ears. He doesn’t respond to her, instead, after a drowning silence, he raises his fist and swiftly drives it through the wall, stopped only after a thunderous reverberation of metal. “What are you doing?” She bellows pulling his arm from the splintered wood and plaster, several slivers lodged into his forearm.

“I was wrong.” He spoke with a muffled voice, glaring, apoplectic at his right arm. They all looked at him puzzled as he turns laying his arm across the island and drawing the pistol from his pants waistband. He raises the weapon and presses it firmly against the bulge in his wrist; Judy panics flitting to pull the gun away, Bucky attempts and fails to bring himself from his support.

“What are you talking about?” He demands.

“The map, the tracer… There were no dots here, even when she was alive!” He shoves Judy back and returning the pistol, “She tried to warn me!” He fires removing a large chunk from his wrist and stands momentarily static before stumbling back and collapsing onto the floor.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#  **_Nick_ **

He was five when his father passed, remembers in great detail as he walked down the stairs of that massive house and watched his mother rush away from a fox stood in the entrance, paw covering her mouth and tears streaming down her face. She wasn’t strong when it came to expressing her emotions, Nick knew this, so when the mammal in a dress military uniform knelt and called the kit over, his heart sank. He explained to the boy that his father was killed in action and Nick tried his damndest to maintain the ignorant bliss that was a child’s strongest coping mechanism, but he knew. He was much too bright for his age, and his sunken heart became a pool for an incubating resentment, without target.

His mother grieved for the year she remained in life, doing everything in her power to keep collected her shattered being in his presence. She still worked, still played with her son, and still made her unmatched cookies, though now her vibrant fur slowly grew grey in her distress; Nick wasn’t happy, but was contented and contained himself for his mother’s sake. Of course, it only lasted a year, when a duo of mammals approached to notify him of her untimely demise during one of her missions. They told him about the threat that assassinated his father’s lead and supposedly murdered his mother, the Shaitans. Nick found it odd that they were so open, until they offered him to either: one, be taken by child services and possibly, not, adopted in their racist city, or two, join them to be able to learn how to fight the creatures, ‘a chance for vengeance’ they said. Nick didn’t care about revenge, he hadn’t known if they were telling the truth or not, but he found reason, victims, conduits for his growing reservoir of rage. The kit found years later that the agency he was taken in by would not have been allowed to take him unless he’d said yes; how was a child of any age able to even begin to comprehend what they were agreeing to, and he learned that he wasn’t the only one to be fooled.

There were thirty of them when he’d arrived, all kids ranging from ten to sixteen years of age, and again, he was six. They gave them three days to fill their bellies and mingle, most of which, Nick had spent on the outskirts, observing the flocking kids in all their glory. Silently, he reviewed survival tips and tricks his parents taught him whenever they’d camp in the northern plains of Zootopia; he understood that there was something coming, something most of these mammals wouldn’t survive.  _ No use in getting too close _ .

And he was right, at the beginning of the fourth day, the new recruits were stripped and abandoned in the southern wilderness; left with nothing but their claws and teeth in a land generously dubbed as the  _ savage lands  _ by anyone whom studied geography and civilization. It wasn’t long, arguably less than a day, for some of the kids to drive themselves mad with hunger, denial, or plain anger ridden insanity; many turned feral, and those unlucky enough to be either hunting or caught in the wake of the young kit, were met with swift and unmerciful death. He’d killed jaguars, cheetahs, wolves, and even a polar bear, was quickly labeled as dangerous and actively avoided by the few remaining mammals, barring one. He didn’t care, kept to himself anyway in a lone den he burrowed somewhere in the forest and strangely took to picking berries he’d learned were safe to eat over fishing or hunting the insects or the unevolved wildlife. At least he could preserve the berries for longer than a few days then have to deal with rotting meat that he didn’t, or couldn’t, eat. Nick lived easily through the year, contented with his way of living and he felt he could live there forever, until the winter months came. The berry bushes began to wither into their dead hibernation for the glacial months to come, and Nick started to cut into his supply hoping that they’d last long enough for him to discover his next source of food. But with the chilling temperature brought snow, in blizzard fashion, making it near impossible for him to find anything, yet alone his own paws in the passing flurries. 

Nick became more painfully aware of the one who stalked him, not as a predator stalks a prey but to quench a curiosity; an arctic fox, of which, no matter the lengths, he couldn’t abdicate. So, he didn’t think the winter to be all bad as this presented him the opportunity for him to elude the mystery predator, so he set off during one of the worst storms he’d ever experience. Nick followed along the small, frozen over creek that he used as a water source, glancing back periodically to ensure his prints were covered. He was never keen on clothing, roughed, knotted and chafed against his fur, but now, equipped with nothing but his fur in the tempest, he yearned for them. He walked for what he thought was a couple miles before turning to his left, deserting the river he was following to head further into the forest, understanding that anyone could find him if he’d stuck too close to it. After no more than a quarter of a mile, Nick excavated a new tunnel for him to rest and wait out the gale, at least it was warmer underground.

Once the squall stopped Nick left his shelter, pausing at a familiar, yet unknown scent. He searched, his nose leading him to a mound of snow, and, cautiously, he swept it away, uncovering the skulker, biting to his touch. Nick drug her back to his den and left seeking dry twigs and tinder, a stick, and tearing off a large sect of dried bark before returning. Rolling the fox to her back, he placed an ear on her polar chest, listening closely…  _ ba-dum… ba-dum… ba-dum… Weak, very weak.  _ Nick laid out his ingredients, the tinder and twigs atop the bark and slid the stick into the center and into a hole he’d carved out of the wood with his claw; He rolled the stick vigorously between his paws till the amber became a growing flame and moved the fire closer to her. He wished that he had access to a heated water source, the best way to warm someone with possible frostbite is with warm, not hot, but warm water. Nick moved towards the entrance, laying down across from her hoping to block out the frigid wind but readying himself for a fight; hours drained by and he remained static, awaiting to learn her fate patiently.

She groaned when she finally came to, her body promptly beginning to shiver and convulse riling her white fur devoid of vibrance due to the purple skin below. Her eyes open infirmed, gazing fogged at the dirt above and sprang to life, pushing herself against the back wall of the dugout; her expression denoted her regret and her body quivered fiercely in protest from moving too quickly. 

“How’re you feeling?” Nick questioned after a drawn out silence, tensed but unvarying.

“What do you want?” She rebuttled apprehensive, teeth chattering.

“I want to know what you want. You’ve been following me for a while now.” They fell back into a mute atmosphere; she shuddered again visibly fighting the urge to hover above the warm, inviting fire. 

“Did you save me?” She gulped through a parched throat or a frozen one, Nick wasn’t sure.

“That remains to be seen.” He glowered at her; their words were exchanged quickly, both clearly antsy.

“I guess you had plenty of time to kill me if you wanted to.” She reluctantly relaxed and slid closer to the warmth extending her paws nearly into the flames. 

“I don’t need you to be asleep to kill you.” He hissed, stagnant; the arctic fox didn’t flinch, and continued to cautiously warm her limbs without burning herself. More time passed, Nick ultimately stirred resting against the makeshift wall next to the entrance and she stopped shivering, sidling away from him. “Why have you been following me?” He repeated and she shrugged.

“Why did you save me?” He was momentarily flummoxed, realizing he never thought, simply acted; Nick nearly laughed at himself.  _ A murderer saving a life, without reason, preposterous.  _ But as he searched for an answer, it was quite simple: irritating or not, she was the only, possibly, sane contact he had in the near year of surviving. He realized that he’d grown intolerably comfortable with the idea that she was there; it was an insufferable concept, eventually she’ll leave him too.

Nick was wrenched from his contemplation by zaffre irises, mere inches away from his, and, instinctively, he sprang to his feet, thrusting forward his muzzle into her neck, teeth pressed firmly against her still frosted skin. She remained inanimate and he hesitantly pulled away, swiftly leaving his den.

“Where are you going?” She called after him, well-nigh foolish enough to chase after him.

“To get water.” He exclaims without turning back. 

Nick imagined himself back at his parent’s house, with his mother in the kitchen cooking, and his father helping the kit set the table. He dreamed that they were together, and happy; nothing ever happened to them, and they all sat and ate dinner in warmth, and afterward they watch a movie and played catch. He stopped after a frigid gale ripped him from his reverie.

He was lost, unaware of how far he walked or which direction; the strong gusts of wind tore up snow from the ground, tossing it about in a makeshift storm and covered up the tracks behind him. He was in an unfamiliar section of woods; Nick reasoned that he’d walked too far, the river wasn’t but a quarter mile away and he’d accidently passed over it in his incognisant state. He did this as he journeyed back the way he thought he came, supplicating that he didn’t lead himself astray.

Nick began to panic, he’d travelled about a mile; he knew of other ways to obtain water, but none were as safe. The creek was a risk too, but it was constantly running and ran through plenty of crevices, so at least it was more filtered than most sources; he lost it though. His wandering through the endless trees rendered him to lose his source of water, not to mention the foreign, yet so identical vomit of vegetation, became a new hunting grounds.  _ What kind of savages where there? Ferals? What insects, plants, anything were there to eat?  _ Before long, he decided to rest, now even unaware of where his new den could be, and composed himself calmly.

_ I was thrown into this place without anything, right? At the beginning. Finding everything again shouldn’t be that difficult, right?  _ He sank into the gelid bark.  _ What’s the point? Vengeance? What a laughable concept.  _ And it was laughable to him. His anger was nulled with the crimes he committed unproudly; if anything, Nick only felt apathy then. So, without a cause or purpose, best he die of hypothermia before he perpetrates anything else, no telling when the psychosis would take him.

“The creek is that way.” A voice announced. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until they snapped open to see the arctic fox, a finger raised and pointed.

“What?” He responded immediately without thought or hesitation.

“The creek, water… It’s that way.” She repeated and tilted her head, for emphasis, in the same direction her finger was still pointing.

“How do you know?” 

“The stars.” He peered around the twisted branches of the tree and into the night sky, observing the glimmering brilliance of the heavens; it never occurred to him that it was dark. Normally, with his night vision, everything appeared as though it was day even in the darkest of nights; the only true difference was the grayscaling effect that the moonlight seemed to have on all under its gaze. “I use them to navigate… It makes it easier to know which way I’m going.”

“Yeah, is that how you got lost in the storm?” Nick retorted, standing and walking in the indicated direction.

“There weren’t stars to guide me then, besides I don’t have a map and I was following you.” She rebuttled shadowing him.

“So the stalker admits stalking,” Nick riposted, “and I would like an answer as to why.” She fell silent again and he glanced over his shoulder watching her shiver. “You should’ve stayed by the fire.”

“And wait for you to come back? No. Besides I knew you were lost-”

“Know me that well do ya?”

“-and if I hadn’t come here, you would’ve been in trouble.” She snapped at him. Nick wasn’t sure if she didn’t hear his quip or if she chose to ignore it as she spoke and began to slow, allowing the vixen to catch up.

“I’ve survived worse in this year. I don’t think this predicament would’ve been the end of me.”

“I never said the  _ situation  _ would be.” Nick averted his gaze; he was unaware of her actual intentions, but understood the indisputable connection, wondering if she somehow read his thoughts. “What do you fight for?” 

“Revenge.” Nick retaliated without delay and she scoffed.

“Bullshit… I’ve been watching you for months now. Nothing you’ve done says you’re seeking vengeance to me.” 

“Guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“You’re a good liar, but I’m better. I know you’re avoiding the answer.”

“Maybe I just like killing then.”

“Then why didn’t you kill me?” Nick became mute at the sound of flowing water, a way out of the interrogation; he rushed ahead of her, not running, but clearly attempting to break free of the conversation. He placed his muzzle near the surface of the creek and began to scoop water with his tongue, attentive enough to avoid allowing any liquid fall to anywhere but his mouth. Frozen fur wouldn’t help him in the winter cold. Nick didn’t know how thirsty he was until he started drinking, almost as if he’d gone without water for days, gulping it down gluttonously and giving himself time to think. He finished shortly before she joined him, slowly drinking her fill; he watched her, resting atop a snow covered boulder, as if trying to peer into her thoughts.

“I still don’t know what you want.” He stated as she lifted herself from the creek; they both shudder at a passing rush of wind.

“Tell me why you fight.” She recapitulated nearly demanding.

“I’ve answered plenty of your question, and you’ve yet to answer one of mine.”

“Tell me and I’ll answer.” She offered and Nick cogitated momentarily then replied through an exhausted sigh.

“Survival… Nothing more.”

“Sounds lonely.” She responded and he furrowed his brow; her face said it all though, she was as fatigued as he was. “I propose an alliance then.”

“What?” He practically forced the word out, too bewildered to do anything else; she took a deep breath, continuing after a short pause.

“Neither of us has a reason to… well, live. So what if we each… relied on the other to keep us going?”

“We know nothing about each other.” Nick counters in his stupify.

“That didn’t stop you from saving my life.” She stopped, collecting her depletion, though arguably for emphasis. “Besides, it couldn’t hurt that there’d be two of us, right?” She was seemingly reasoning with herself as much as she was with him. Nick began to ponder weighing the benefits and disadvantages, and eventually tilting the scale.  _ They placed us here as a test, but certainly they hadn’t intended for alliances to not form…  _

“I can see your point.” He replied simply and she nodded though her expression remained unchanged.

“Not quite a yes, but I’ll take it… My name is Mary Ann by the way.” She held out her paw,  _ a gesture of friendship,  _ and Nick choked back tears.

“Call me whatever, I still don’t trust you.” He brushed her aside as he walked away in, hopefully in the direction of his new den.

“-ck… Nick!” He fades back into the present, his eyes mist and smeared with water. Nick glances at the rabbits hovering close enough for him to smell the dirt and fertilizer, long since abandoned.

“She didn’t have to die Doc…” He trails off stifling his tears and swallowing his whimper, sliding up the wall weakly. They all snap towards the sound of crunching glass and Nick wipes his eyes, swiftly maneuvering the bunnies around the island, maintaining the center counters between their sight and the living room. He pushes them out the adjacent doorway and into the corridor, straightening and walking towards the opposite entrance, gesturing for the rabbits to enter the basement. He doesn’t glance back to ensure that they do, pressing flat, inaudible against the corner of the wall listening to the glass being crushed. He crouches as the sound dampens growing closer before going silent; Nick heaves himself up using the additional force of his legs to drive his palm into the jaw of the attacker rounding the corner lifting them easily off the ground by sheer impact. A second skirts the edge in a wide arch, firing around their collapsing comrade; Nick easily evades the blind fire and grabs the barrel of the weapon, bashing it into the wolf’s muzzle and shifting back into the darkness, careful to avoid any other mammal with night vision. Until of course…

“Jeremy!” Her scream finally registers in his ears from moments earlier and Nick turns in time to watch the doc fumble down the stairs, Judy unable to grasp him before. His vision blurs red as metal bashes against his skull, likely due to bursting several blood vessels in his eyes; Nick catches the second attempt and thrusts his paw into the wolf’s throat, lashing him back into the living room, nothing more than a light-weight ragdoll. He peers back, Judy lays motionless, a few darts protruding from her back; three approach and fire when their laser sights find him. He bounds forward, darts catch his left leg and right arm, ramming his weight against the tiger in front of him, ripping the assault rifle from his paws as they plummet. Nick briskly rolls and lines the tiger, who wasn’t even on the ground yet, with the tranquilizers. Three more raise their weapons as Nick dives, sliding across the living room floor to gain a new vantage point, flanking the three himself and drops two to the ground with the gun and the last with the thrashing, limp limb that hung from his shoulder like a flail; he proceeds into the kitchen again, slouching against the wall again, without a single huff, mute, listening. His face cringes and contorts as his shoulder, and worryingly his side again, burned aggressively.

He sneaks about the island and to the passageway again, cautiously glancing about the bend.  _ Judy’s gone, Alex is gone, Doc is probably at the bottom of the steps.  _ He rounds his cover into the hallway, weapon raised and aimed down the passageway, laser off as to not give away his position; gazing into the dark basement, Nick couldn’t make out the buck, at least he isn’t at the base of the steps. Nick bows his head momentarily his ears flickering only at the rustling of leaves from the cherry tree and copper and iron are the only scents, the rest have been dissipated from the house entirely, even the air of the house stood still, aside the breeze from the busted windows… There isn’t any movement.  _ They aren’t from the syndicate, definitely not Shaitans. Too highly trained to be any kind of militia. Clearly of Zootopia…  _ His thoughts are quickly rendered derelict at the overpowering stitch flaring from his side; Nick glances down at the crimson bandages wrapping his torso.  _ Damn it.  _ His body shudders and shakes. 

Nick peers back down the steps and then towards the stairway leading to the first floor; to weak to continue his fight with them on the assault, he has to take the initiative and hope that those three are the last. He lurches forward, his leg unresponsive, sinking heavily onto the wall and cups his wound with his torpid paw. Nick slides along the wall, his arm gradually losing strength and lowering the gun, only raising again as he glances around to the living room, shots from behind follow his right half.

“Shit.” Nick snickers, sliding down the wall, both legs numb.

“Sir, we’ve got him!” The mammal exclaims ecstatically, all three lasers upon him.

“Remember, we need him alive, for now.” someone answers presumably by way of radio as the voice was mixed with static.

“So, you weren’t alone… Good to know.” Color is being stripped from his fur, his words slurred through a dried mouth; he is losing too much blood, too quickly. “What happened to the rabbits?”

“ _ Rabbits _ ?” The jaguar expresses her puzzlement plainly, “We only got one.” 

“Then you weren’t the only ones.” He begins to speak in broken sentences, between heavy inhales, unaware if it was the blood loss or tranquilizer.

“What do you mean by that?” he hears her question but he was too far gone at that point to answer coherently, until he slipped into a deep coma.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#  **_Bucky_ **

One word, one name,  _ Alex _ , resonates through the medium that is his flesh, while he’s left to his own thoughts and memories; many of which he pretends never existed and many more that creep through his facade to delve him into his own world of madness and nightmares… 

Bucky wakes to the muffled snapping of furred fingers and stirs to a sitting position bobbing his head in acknowledgement of an incoherent whisper turned bark.  _ It’s my shift _ . He repeats his first lieutenants words to himself and glances down at his watch,  _ 02:00 _ , the officer retreats to the metal bench that served as their cots. After donning his boots and wrapping his shoulders in the camouflaged blouse, Bucky staggers to his feet and fumbles his way to the back of the transport truck as carefully as he could in his delirium, battling fiercely against the bumps and jerks of the dirt road. He reaches the exit and pulls one of the fabric curtains open to a small platform extending from the back; he shields his eyes from the bright beams of the identical vehicle following and immediately tugs the cloth back together behind him to appease the disgruntled groan of another sleeping rabbit. He turns back to wave at the driver, but the truck is gone and so are the lights; Bucky shrugs and pivots to gaze at the peak of the material covering the back, leaping and catching the edge of the thin metal roof underneath. He lifts himself to the top, and gestures a greeting to the bunny that mimics his hello; Jeremy accepts the semi-automatic rifle and the “bullet-proof,”  _ resistant _ , helmet, then watches as the soldier walks to the back of the truck and continues to stroll into the darkness. He settles himself, setting the rifle between his crotch and his crossed legs and allowing the barrel to rest upon his shoulder; Bucky felt comfortable for the moment. Fog lights line around his truck and illuminate the flat swamps of the eastern periphery of Zootopia, just outside of the marshlands, permitting him to see at least a mile in each direction; he sits, yawning and unenthusiastically staring at the diminishing horizon, enjoying the zephyr, the low rumble of the engine, and the quivering the metal because of it. It doesn’t phase him when the land disappears, left riding on an imperceptible road in purgatory; Jeremy is then surrounded in darkness, too much dark, he decides to be natural, to be real. Free floating in a vacuity shrouded in a veil of void; he begins to understand what is happening, to grasp with his inoperative coherence.

“I’m jealous of the people who haven’t met you.” A voice calls out in a friendly banter. Bucky shuffles his feet, turning around, puzzled as he never stood up, to view Kovikaos, an old friend, with a smile reaching from ear to ear. There is daylight and the convoy moves passed them, troops running beside the crawling trucks.

“You know, if you’re going to be a smartass, first you have to be smart, otherwise you’re just an ass.” Jeremy responds, only it wasn’t him. Bucky continues to pivot, noticing himself, not him as he is now but a replica, a memory, a false existence, answering Kovikaos’ smile with one just as big. 

“Oh, wow, I’d love to see things from your perspective but I can’t seem to get my head that far up my ass.” He ripostes back as the duplicate fades and Bucky takes his place, never having moved. The world changes about him as if he is on a conveyer belt or the land itself is shifting to accommodate where it wants him to be. Jeremy, shakes his head violently trying to overcome his trepidation and reclaim his consciousness; He grabs his best friend’s arm,  fleeing in the opposite direction of his colony wrapping around the bend and grinding to a halt, panting, as the company approaches from ahead. He glances to Kovikaos, only he isn’t there, he snaps back around as his friend’s paw lands on his shoulder, “think you can keep up?” He runs about him to catch up to the rest of the soldiers that manifested behind him when he looked away. Jeremy sprints to arrest the rabbit in his grip pivoting to face him; Kovikaos smiles again, racing up to Bucky a few feet behind.

“What’s the matter? Is the staff sergeant too cool to hang out with his ol’ buddies?”  His body begins to dissolve as he approaches; his fur glowing ember and skin evaporating as ash.

The day quickly turns night, and Jeremy kneels above Kovikaos’ burning corpse; he scans the blackened battlefield in a panic. The vehicles are scattered and shredded in flaming heaps, metal fragments soar through the air from the mortar attacks and various explosive weapons, and the second colony, fifty-three companions, lay all but slaughtered in the ambush. He spots a weapon, an old M1 Gaur rifle that used to be his lieutenant’s favorite, resting against a charred body; running he drops and slides to the gun, picking it up and aiming in the direction of a firing squad. Jeremy rolls and takes cover, cowering underneath the echoing barrage of ricochet off the metal separating him and certain death; he plunges into the grass as a grenade lands beside where he had been, burrowing itself into the dirt. It bursts, not where it landed, but where he did, filling his abdomen with shrapnel; Bucky grips his stomach, writhing in pain, yet, when he glances down at the wound, it isn’t present yet that didn’t help with the agony. He watches in his torment, as the few remaining of his colony rush in with guns blazing and being massacred before his eyes; some were shot, some minced by random eruptions, the rest eaten alive by the foxes. He alone is saved, as jets flew overhead, bombing the skyline and stopping the mortar fire. Jeremy leaps to his feet, his gut almost audibly yowling in suffering, with the rifle in hand to slowly pick off the distracted and scattered party, but Bucky isn’t the one doing so; an image hunts the retreating skulk, removing the life of those he could see in his fit of vengeance. Jeremy fights to stop him, though is stuck in place and he watches in vivid detail as two surrendering foxes stare down his barrel, backing away with every step forward he takes. One steps forward and his image shoots, the bullet piercing through her heart and the other catches her, crumbling with her collapse; the young buck loads another bullet in the action and takes aim again, the fox scowls at him, tears streaming down its face.

“You’ll live, with the pain of losing your comrades.” He states lowering the rifle and the fox stands, the vixen in its arms.

“I’ll remember your scent.” It vows as it walks away. The scene fades into black, releasing Jeremy from his invisible restraints; he heaves, still gripping onto his stomach, searching the darkness. A dim light glimmers in the distance and he begins to run for it, slowly waking in a fog.

Bucky lifts his pounding head, glancing at the fox tying him to a chair in his old living room, on the base thirty miles away from the incident, nearly fifty from the border; it raises his nose to Jeremy’s.

“You took my family, now I shall take yours.” He begins to struggle immediately, his wife’s blood already pooled across the kitchen floor. The fox stalks up the stairs visible from Bucky’s seat and Jeremy tosses his body’s weight to the side dropping himself onto the hardwood, smashing and loosening the arm. His litter begins to cry from the first floor; he works faster using his now free fist to snap the other arm and legs off completely, the rope still attaching the pieces to his limbs. Without hesitation, Jeremy flits up the steps, the cries quickly diminishing, and rounds the railing to watch his last kit being placed into and chewed by the towering mammal; the final cry goes mute with the sickening crunching of bone taking its place. Bucky leaps and uses the broken wood hanging from his arm to pierce through his chest; to his dismay, it smiled, a real shit eating smile, bits of his kittens still in it’s teeth, as it glowers back at him.

“Too late.” He drops to the floor with the predator he let free, broken; Bucky stares at his blood soaked hands, knowing some of it is his litters.

“Daddy?” Jeremy is in a single hospital hallway without branches, lit only by red lights from his end to the other, where Alex stands. He notices his kit and immediately attempts to flit towards him, but is rendered stuck as leagues of rope engulf his body, pouring out of the corners of the walls. Bucky struggles against his binds and pauses as Nick appears from a distortion adjacent; he nearly feels relief until Nick glances at him, his eyes primal and turns to face the kit with a hungering growl. The fox crouches down on all fours and bounds for Alex. Jeremy screams after him, but nothing exits his throat, yanking and pulling the constraints minutely trudging forward, yet it was no use; for every step he takes, two lengths are added to the distance. He continues to skirmish against the ropes, ripping one by one from the walls and pursues the fox, now a spec in the horizon; He watches as the dot leaps into the air, imagining Alex cowering underneath the fox’s teeth. Bucky yells out again, the resonating word overpowering his static vox into a gargled ‘ _ Alex, _ ’ and appears aside his kit, tacking the pouncing predator and leaping back from the spasming animal. Jeremy lifts his kit into his arms, tucking him firmly against his shoulder and runs left; the fox following closely behind. They follow the bends and curves of the twisting maze, reaching a cross-section; he stops glimpsing the predator running at him from ahead and turns around to see nothing but a wall, back in the original T-section. This time, the fox approaches from the left and right as well; Bucky lowers Alex, and presses him against the wall behind him, clenching his fists, prepared for a fight.

“It’s alright daddy.” A distorted voice announces. Jeremy faces his kitten, smothered in blood and clearly not of the living. “I’m already dead.” The predator leaps onto his back sinking his teeth deep into Bucky’s shoulder.

He wakes to a white room, bright enough to blind him nearly instantly; blotches of purple and black cloud his vision both behind closed and open eyes; Bucky rubs them, removing the tears he had the ability to before lifting himself. He drops back into the bed again, his heartache overwhelmed by a crippling, withering wrath of a laceration in his stomach; glancing down, he notices a bright crimson stained bandage wrapping around his torso. He thrashes his body over the edge of the bed, landing hard against the cold, painted white concrete; his legs are numb, Bucky could feel it over the agony, the non-responsive, limp limbs, nothing more than meat now. 

He lays still, breathing as steadily as he could manage, studying the room: glossy tiles line the sides of his enclosure, up to a light; Jeremy isn’t religious, but if he had to describe it, he would compare to the blinding thought of the heavens opening to accept,  _ or deny _ , him. His bed was an extended slab of concrete, a thin mattress strewn atop, protruding from the shining wall, thin chains attached to the far corners of it for extra support; a single porcelain throne sat in the corner, likely having been made for a slightly larger mammal. Bucky strains his neck pulling his head back far enough to see a large, steel door cautious to not stretch the wound.

But it didn’t matter, Jeremy could feel the warmth of the blood pooling against his fur underneath the bandages, whoever patched him up didn’t do a great job; he rolls to his stomach, trying his best to not exercise his abdomen or lower back, crawling towards it in small bouts while lifting his torso off the ground; his legs are still unresponsive. He reaches the adjacent wall collapsing and rolling to his back again heaving in anguish, though the movement of his diaphragm didn’t help; his fist pounding heavily on the metal echoes through the tight space. After a few seconds, he strikes it again, then again, then again, until he could hear a squish of feet on a wet and mossed over floor.  _ Where the hell am I?  _

The door swings open, only allowing him a strenuous moment to move his head out of the way of the steel, grunting in pain as he drops back down and stares up at a polar bear.

“You’re awake.” It states in a monotoned accent common to her species.

“I fucking hope so.” Bucky yells back in response, grimacing in regret and returning his focus on breathing. She walks away, leaving the door open, “no, it’s fine… I’ll be glad to slowly die here on the floor,” he says through his shivering breaths; Jeremy keeps his paws on the wound, pressed firmly down as if his entrails would leave without the pressure. 

He rests motionless for a disconcerting amount of time before the lumbering mammal returned, this time with a panther by her side.

“Oh, great, you back to watch me slowly die?” He pants, unable to slow his heart; his skin was cold and clammy, his fur vacant of vitality. They said nothing, the pather moved around him to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“We need to talk.” He announces, somberly.

“Yeah, swell idea. I can just bleed out while we’re at it…” Bucky doesn’t move and maintains a pleasant calm. “Where’s my son?” He demands and the predators both drop their snouts. 

“He’s dead doctor Warren.” The panther states. Jeremy wondered how he kept his suit so fresh in the sewer-like environment, and how the neither have slipped on the floor outside his door.

“Doctor?” 

“Shut up.” He responds under his breath.  _ It can’t be true _ . Bucky stared into the light pondering the style of bulbs that could produce that much radiance, and why they had to make everything in that room white.

“Doctor…”

“Shut, up.” He demands again, pausing his thoughts as the polar bear steps between his ears halting with the panther’s up held paw.

“Jeremy, I’m sorry you had to find out by way of me. My name is Felid Lorenz, and this my colleague Ursid Oken, we are with the syndicate that 029817 has undoubtedly slandered.” Bucky continues his denial by way of random thoughts. “I apologize for the actions of our associates at MI6. We warned them that he had hostages, but they didn’t listen”

“You tell me all of this and am hoping that I believe you in my deliriousness, right?” He responds, fists clenched, still pressing down on his stomach.

“I’m afraid not. We’ve been hunting him for months now, sent in Mary Ann to hopefully get close enough to him to make him drop his guard… A very tragic loss for us.” He audibly choked back his sorrow. “We let him go some time ago as he needed psychiatric attention.” He removes a slip of paper and hands it to the polar bear, who in turn lowers it close enough for Bucky to read; many things were blacked out, but he looks over what isn’t, including a picture of Nick. “The discharge papers for the mammal in question. Forgive me for the deleted items, he still has the same rights at the mammals in Zootopia. Even if he is a murderer.”

“This proves nothing. Get to the point, you want something from me.” The panther nods.

“I know you must be confused. He has that effect on mammals, but I assure you that I’m telling the truth.” He looked sincere when he said this, but in Jeremy’s experience: the more honest one looks, the better liar they are. “And yes, I cannot deny that I seeking something from you too…” The panther looks uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck. _Buying time to make up the next lie_. “We brought him into the field young, too young. He ended up demanding to be apart of an experimental attempt to allow us to match the Shaitans in every aspect, back before we had regulations. The experiment was scrapped, every mammal involved died due to the implications but him. He survived and became something even stronger than the Shaitans, but in turn, he began to lose himself.” Bucky found himself believing every word in his delirium, his perturbation over his son, and his lack of knowledge of Nick’s past. “We tried helping him, but he disappeared, and bodies, well the absence of actually, started to pile across the continent.”

“What do you want from me?” He replies genuinely, interrupting the panther.

“... We thought we’d have the best chance with you… To undergo the same treatments as he did. Needless to say, we’ve improved the plan itself.”

“And if I refuse?” 

“We’ll give you the medical care you require and place you under our protection until he’s dealt with. After that, we’ll release you back into your normal life.” 

_ Normal _ . The word echoes through his blurry thoughts.  _ What about my life has been normal? _ He let out a small chuckle.  _ What about Alex?  _

“I can’t say if I’d be of much use.” He gestures to his paralyzed legs.

“The treatments would fix that, though, again, it is highly experimental.”

“What about my son? What happened to him?” 

“I’m sorry doctor, your son was murdered.”

“How? By who?” The panther cringes.

“He was likely eaten… by the fox.” 

#    
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to limit the time for the next chapter to a month at the latest, and if you're reading this, thank you soo much for reading.


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